LOCI Ugly Pageants
by AMDonahue
Summary: Logan and Falacci investigate a murder at a local beauty pageant. This is episode 13 of this season. I'm finishing the season in lieu of the real writers.


**Law and Order: Criminal Intent**

**Ugly Pageant**

AnneMarie Donahue

**SLURG Cola Beauty Pageant**

**Basement of P.S. 51**

**Manhattan, NY**

"You are such a bitch!" Miss New Rochelle screeched as she pulled a clump of hair out of the reigning Miss Albany's head. Two stage hands rushed over to stop the cat fight that had erupted.

"Bitch!" Albany reached out and raked her fake nails across the face of her opponent in one last effort.

"Ladies!" A female stage manager forced herself between the contestants. "Stop it!" She looked over at the two male attendants, who seemed a little afraid to come between the beauty queens. She rolled her eyes and barked at them, "a little help here guys!"

The men separated the girls who by this time had managed to tear the tiaras off of each others' head, along with clumps of fine dried-out hair. They calmed down quickly but still had sharp looks in their eyes that let the stage manager know another fight could explode in a moment.

"Margo, she hid the reed to my clarinet!" The taller blonde screamed at the stage manager.

Margo turned to the girl protesting her innocent when she caught site of Miss Flushing coming towards the girls. She didn't look like she was going to enter the fight, but there was something urgent in her manner.

"Cynthia, just sit down. I don't have time for everyone's dramatics." Margo said, hoping the girl would just wait her turn.

Cynthia looked up and Margo could see her face beginning to swell, tears running down her eyes in black rivers washing away the disgusting makeup.

"Oh sick." The offended Miss New Rochelle said stepping away from Cynthia. Both girls had calmed completely in the sight of this latest complication.

"Cynthia?" Margo approached her slowly, "are you okay?"

Cynthia shook her heads and began to hyperventilate. Margo pushed the fighting contestants out her way to reach Cynthia before she collapsed on the floor. "Call an ambulance!"

**SLURG Cola Beauty Pageant**

**Basement of P.S. 51**

**Manhattan, NY**

"I can't say for certain, but it looks like poisoning. I'll autopsy when I get back to the lab." The ME covered Cynthia Locke under the sheet.

"Okay, thanks." Logan watched the little stretcher get packed into an awaiting ambulance. He turned and walked into the school. Logan followed the line of uniformed police until he found the basement which had been converted to a dressing room for the girl's competing in the pageant.

Falacci was already there, talking to a few of the pageant officials. She nodded him over, and pointing to the woman standing in front of her said, "this is Margo Kravit, she saw the accident."

"Ms. Kravit, could you go over the event for me?" Logan looked at her. She was shaken but was sturdy enough to talk about. There was something bothering her, he could tell. "Actually, hold on a moment." Logan looked at the taller woman standing behind her, "I'm sorry, I'm Detective Logan."

"Annabella Poirier. I'm the director for this pageant and marketing for SLURG Cola Corporation. We are mortified with this tragedy, detective and anything the SLURG family can do to assist will be done immediately."

Logan had to stifle a laugh. Falacci took a breath but Logan shot her a look to shut her up, he could sense a snide comment coming from her any minute. "Actually Ms. Poirier, could you go with this officer and give the specifics of the pageant to him, names of the contestants, any background information you have would be helpful." Logan waved over an officer who took Annabella into the hallway. Logan noticed that Margo immediately relaxed and he focused his attention back to her.

"Ms. Kravit, I'm sorry could you continue please?"

Margo shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know how much I can tell you. We had rehearsed for two day before today. Our pageants are run over a single day, but the judging starts at rehearsals. We had the interviews yesterday, and frankly the judges had already picked their top three, today was simply the show for the public."

"What happened today?" Falacci prompted her.

"Everything seemed normal, we were half way through the show when a fight started." Margo stopped, she noticed that Falacci had raised her eyebrow. "Evidently you weren't in a lot of pageants as a girl."

"Hockey team actually.' Falacci smiled at her, Logan thought it was odd to see her smile.

"Yeah, they're not my cup of tea either, but trust me, you've never been in a fight until you've been in a beauty pageant. At least on the ice you have a stick to defend youself." The two women laughed slightly, then Margo continued. "I had just broken up the fight when I noticed Cynthia coming towards me. Frankly I thought she just wanted to get in the way, so I yelled at her, told her to sit back down." Margo stopped for a moment and bit her lip. "Then I noticed her face was swollen and she was crying. I asked her what was wrong, but she wouldn't talk. Then she collapsed in my arms."

"Between that and the ambulance did anything happen?" Falacci pushed her.

"She stopped breathing, I administered CPR, but when the EMTs got here they said there was nothing they could do."

"How did the other contestants treat Cynthia?" Logan looked around the room, trying to get a register of what happened there.

"Well, they liked her enough but I got a sense that she wasn't like the other girls."

"Meaning?" He prompted but kept his eyes searching the room.

"Well, they were clicky and talked about clothing and fashion and Paris Hilton. Cynthia seemed as though she didn't know what any of that was. I got a sense she was from one of those really sheltered families. Her talent was harp music, hymns specifically. Pretty rare these days." Margo had folded her arms across her chest to warm her hands.

"Well, thank you, we'll be in touch…" Falacci started to say, but Logan interrupted her.

"The fight, what was it over?"

Margo had to stop and think, "uhm. Ellen, Miss Albany, accused Harriet of taking something off her clarinet."

"The reed?" Falacci offered.

Margo nodded, "yeah. Anyway, they were screeching like wet cats when I found them. Ripped out each other's hair and everything."

"Can't play without a reed." Falacci shrugged and began to turn.

"Well then that's weird, she had already performed."

Logan and Falacci shot each other a knowing look. "Thanks Ms. Kravit, we'll call you if we need anymore information."

Kravits walked away to direct one of the stage hands. Logan called out to her, "where was Cynthia's station?"

Kravits pointed to the table sitting behind her. Logan and Falacci walked over, there was considerably less make up than the other tables. While the other girls had jars of expensive creams and powders Cynthia had only a few items.

"I don't get it." Falacci said, putting on a latex glove. "She enters a beauty pageant and only brings this stuff? It looks like she picked it all up at a drug store."

Logan shrugged, she could see him looking confused in the mirror. "These girls go all out for these things. The gowns alone are at least a grand."

"Not Cynthia." Logan said, he finally remembered what bothered him so much about seeing her on the stretcher. "The dress she had on came from Sears. My niece wore it to her prom last year."

"Regular Cinderella." Falacci quipped.

Falacci picked up a compact of foundation from the table, "looks like she was applying more of this when she stopped." The table had traces of power on it, the pad had been carelessly dropped on the floor. Falacci brought it to her nose. She paused a moment, "Logan, smell this."

"Shouldn't we partners longer before you start using me as a guinea pig?"

"Funny. Smell this and tell me if you notice anything." She put the compact under his nose.

"Fish?"

"You wanna make a bet our Cinderella has a shellfish allergy?"

"Great," Logan stood up and looked around at the bored beauty queens standing around. "We've got plenty of wicked step-sisters to choose from."

**One Police Plaza**

**New York, NY**

"Thanks for the help, we can use it." Falacci walked her mug of coffee back to her desk. She and Logan had decided to run in every pageant member there. This filled up the squad room very quickly with big hair and sequenced gowns.

"No problem. I'm playing 'good-girl' these days." Eames sighed and nodded to Ross' office just beyond them.

"Any word from… your partner?" Falacci asked sounding as though she were walking on egg shells.

"Goren?" Eames reminded her he had a name, "yeah. He's fine. I think he actually moved into the library." Eames smiled at the thought of Robert annoying the librarians so much they demand he be re-instated back on the force, before he re-invent the Dewey Decimal System.

"I hope he gets to come back soon. I love my kids, but more than two days off is enough to drive me crazy." Falacci stirred in more sugar from her drawer and walked towards on of the interviewing rooms.

"You have kids?" Eames asked.

"Two. You?"

"Well, yes, uhm…"

"Falacci, come here." Logan leaned his head out of the door and motioned for her.

She walked over, smiling to Eames. Alex felt a little alone, watching two partners working together. She looked over at her desk, Bishop was there talking to one of the pageant contestants. There was nothing wrong with Bishop, but she wasn't Goren.

Inside the interview room Logan had Annabella and the three judges seated. Falacci walked in and leaned against the wall.

Logan addressed Annabella, "could you explain this to my partner?"

"The grand prize is a modeling contract with SLURG Cola and a spot on the show, The Next Face of America. Miss 19 New York is a very sought after title."

"And guess who had the competition all but won?" Logan stood next to Falacci.

"So Cynthia was going to win?"

"Yes," Annabella looked at the judges who all agreed. "She had exactly what we want to represent our cola, a fresh face, and a wholesome attitude."

"It was her interview that won it for her." The judge sitting next to Annabella said. "She just impressed us with her ability to speak and how sweet she was."

"Did any of the other contestants know?" Falacci asked.

"No, we never announce anything ahead of time." Annabella calmed her voice down and reflected. "But they were all pageant veterans and they can tell when a pageant is leaning towards a certain contestant."

Bishop knocked on the door. Logan turned around and glared at her. She called through the door, "The ME is done."

Logan turned back to the judges and pageant director. "Thank you for your cooperation. We'll send in an officer to see you out."

**Office of the Medical Examiner**

**New York, NY**

"It was a shellfish allergy alright." Rogers pulled the sheet back to show the face and upper sternum. "It was deliberate. I tested the makeup you sent along, someone had tampered with it, added shellfish oil to her foundation. The contact triggered an allergic reaction and killed her."

"Are these bruises from the accident?" Falacci asked holding up her arm.

"No, they're not." Rogers removed the sheet, "this girl has bruises going back about a month distributed over her body. She also has very old fractures, I could twelve in total. But I can't be sure with some because of her age."

"So, somebody's been beating on this kid." Logan could feel himself getting hot. Logan grimaced looking at the girl on the slab before him. "She looks younger than 19."

"That would be because she is." Rogers said, she pulled out a chart she had used for the examination and handed it over to Logan.

"Melinda Taylor, age 16. She provided the pageant with a fake id, and fake address." He stopped reading and looked at Rogers, "how did you get her id?"

"She's in our system." Rogers turned on her computer monitor; there was a display of Melinda Taylor.

"You're kidding me, this girl has a record?" Falacci asked in disbelief.

"No, she's in _our_ system." Rogers put the sheet back over the victim, "her mother's a cop."

**Residence of Margaret Taylor**

**Flushing, NY**

Falacci and Logan looked up at the grim brick house surrounded by a chain link fence and guarded by the nastiest Pomeranian ever.

"Great, we can either get rabies from the dog or tetanus hopping the fence." Falacci tried the gate, it was locked.

"I could shoot the dog." Logan was behind her.

Falacci was about to tell him to go ahead and waste the snarling little pup when Melinda's aunt emerged from front her door.

"Get the hell away from my dog!" She yelled, cigarette permanently attached to her swollen lower lip.

Falacci pulled out her badge and flashed it at the woman, "ma'am, we're NYPD, we need to talk to you about your niece."

"Melinda?" She softened a little, but then resumed the edge in her voice. She fumbled with a set of keys from her housecoat pocket and opened the fence gate. "What's she done."

"Ma'am, can we come in and talk with you?" Falacci pointed into the house.

The woman looked as though she deflated, "oh no."

Inside the house was a reflection of the outside. It was ill-kept, cluttered and uninviting. Falacci looked around with disapproval, the mom in her spotted every sharp object in the room, every open food item spoiling in the air and every speck of clutter. She pitied the little body laying in their morgue.

The aunt sat down in an enormous recliner that may have seen better days, but certainly not in that house. Two cats ran from seat before they became squashed underneath her.

"What happened to her?" She lit a fresh cigarette and finished off a can of beer. Her eyes never left the ground, she couldn't bring herself to face these police officers.

"Melinda died of an allergic reaction to shellfish."

The aunt looked up quickly, "she would know to stay away from that, she was allergic since she was a child."

"Yes, ma'am. We think she was poisoned." Logan tried to appeal to her mourning.

"No one would do that." The aunt looked as though she could cry, but instead opened a new beer can and finished off half of it before continuing. "She was a sweet girl. No one would want to hurt her."

"Ms. Taylor we found some old bruises on Melinda." Logan knelt down in front of her, the aunt couldn't look away.

"He should never have left her with me." She shook her head and motioned the room, "look at this place. I can't take care of myself, I certainly can't take care of a little girl."

"How did Melinda come to live with you?" Falacci asked.

"My brother had this girlfriend, I never saw her, but I got the sense they were sneaking around. She probably had a husband. I never knew what happened, but the my brother just disappeared one day." She took a long drag off of her cigarette, she was getting worked up, "then three years later he shows up here, he's strung out and he's got this little girl who looks nothing like him. He says, I'm her aunt and I can I watch her, just for a little while. That was sixteen years ago. I haven't seen him since."

"Can we check out her room?" Logan wanted to understand the girl a little better and felt it would be kindest to leave the aunt with her thoughts for a moment.

"Down the hall."

Falacci followed Logan into the room. It was the calm in the middle of the storm. A small twin bed, crowded with second hand repaired stuffed animals. Falacci walked over the chair by the window, there was a small celtic harp on it. She plucked a few strings, it rang out beautifully.

"She's got two, I suppose the other one is with her." Taylor had come up behind them, silently, which for her was no small feet.

Logan pointed at the diploma on the wall, "she's already graduated from high school?"

"She finished classes in December, and got the diploma. Smart girl, that's why I'm not entirely sure she's related to me. She was going to start college in the fall." Her voice broke off. Falacci glanced at Logan. Her eye fell on the vanity table. She picked up a notebook.

"Logan, look at this." She handed it to him.

Logan looked at the page, he moved towards the aunt. "Do these names and numbers mean anything to you?"

"Henry, that's my brother," she looked at the paper longer, "Anna, I think that was the girlfriend. But I never met her, so I can't be sure."

Falacci stood closer to Logan, "this number's from the city." Her phone rang at her side. She stood in one corner of the room to answer it.

"Ms. Taylor, you can't recall anything your niece was doing recently?" He led her into the hall to give Falacci a chance to talk on the phone.

"She was spending a lot of time in the city. I found train tickets in her coat pocket. We got into a terrible row. I wanted to know what she was doing, but she refused to talk about it. These last days she was gone before I even woke up, I thought maybe she got a job."

Falacci walked up to Logan, "Ms. Taylor, thank you for your time, and we're sorry for your loss, but we have to go back to the station."

**One Police Plaza**

**New York, NY**

Detective Eames sat with the two fueding beauty queens. Falacci and Logan had left to follow a lead out in Flushing, asking her to question the girls.

"I should have all witnesses wear banners." Eames commented sitting down at the table.

"They're sashes." Ellen Showalter said in her snide little voice.

Both girls in unison flipped their sinking hair back. Eames smiled a little at the sight then looked down at her notes from Falacci.

"This fight was over a clarinet?"

"Yeah, this bitch broke my reed and…"

"You bitch," Harriet Eco slapped her hands on the desk and stood up, "I never touched your pipe" Both girls were standing and shouting at each other.

Eames rose immediately and bellowed at them, "sit down and SHUT UP!"

Both girls look sheepishly at Eames and slunk down into their chairs. Eames snatched the clarinet case off of the floor at Ellen's feet. She slapped it down on the table. Ellen jumped forward slightly and went to protest, but Eames shot her a look that snapped her mouth shut.

Eames opened the case and inspected the pieces, she put the clarinet together like a marine assembles her gun. All of the pieces locked into place, she examined the reed, pressed it into place and played the only song she could remember from high school, 'When the Saints Come Marching In.'

Both girls looked at each other and fidgeted in their seats.

"So, broken, huh?" Eames sat back down and tossed the clarinet over the table at Ellen. She caught it with one hand and placed it on the table.

"We got paid." Harriet bolted forward. "All we knew was to start fighting at 12:30."

"Who paid you?"

"The stage hands, Doug and Ubie." Harriet tucked her hair behind her ears. "Hey, since I told you first, I get a deal right?"

"Bitch," Ellen smacked her arm, "I would have told you too, we should both get to go home, now."

"I'll check with the DA on the policy for coming clean first. Sit tight for now and you're parents will be here to pick you up."

Ubie and Doug had just been released from Bishop's desk. Eames stopped them on their way out. "Gentlemen, could I have a moment of your time?"

One of them looked her up and down, Eames cracked a smile, she could have baby-sat this idiot in high school. "You got it sweets."

"Let's sit down," she moved back to her desk. Bishop moved to allow the two gents to sit down. "So do you see those two girls in there?" Eames pointed at the interview room with the beauty queens.

"Yeah," Ubie smiled and nodded in their direction. The girls caught the motion and looked disgusted. "Stuck ups."

"Well, they identified you as the financial backers for their little performance in the dressing room." She looked at the boys waiting for the panic to set in. She had misjudged them.

Ubie patted Doug and smiled at him, "we got their backs."

"Oh sweet, they really said that?" Doug sat up and looked from Eames back into the interview room.

Eames sighed, "no, see. They said you gave them money and instructed them to pretend to fight."

"What?" Ubie sat up.

"And while they were fighting, somebody" she eyed Doug, "laced the victim's makeup with shellfish oil."

"Woah, we didn't do that." Doug started.

"Shut up man!" Ubie swatted him.

"No, the best thing you can do is to tell me what you did do, because right now, you're looking at murder."

"We paid those two girls to fight. The money was left in my locker with a note to the both of us. I got no idea who left that money," he dug into his pocket and pulled out a wad of paper, "here's the note."

Eames motioned for him to put it down. Bishop pulled an evidence bag out of Goren's desk. Eames stood up. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Falacci. She walked away from the desk.

"Hey lady, we should get to go home, since we told you what happened, right?" Bishop rolled her eyes at them.

"Seriously, can we go home if we tell you more stuff?" Doug offered Bishop.

"This isn't 'let's make a deal.'" She sat back down at the desk, "but if you have more evidence to offer, then you should admit it now."

"Okay, well the lady who runs the show, she was yelling at Cynthia. They were having this wicked fight yesterday. She pulled Cynthia into a hallway and slapped her across the face and yelled about how she wasn't going to take her whole life away from her."

Bishop looked at the two and narrowed her eyes.

Eames had hung up the phone, Bishop looked at her, "Eames…"

**One Police Plaza**

**New York, NY**

Annabella sat in the interrogation room, her arms were folded across her chest, her lips were pursed in a pert, annoyed manner, her legs were crossed and she bounced her left leg violently.

Behind the glass Falacci read this woman like a book. "She's caught, she knows it."

"That's the easy part, it's getting her out of the trap and into the bag that may prove difficult." Logan rubbed his jaw. "We'll rattle her a little."

He left the room quickly, Falacci bolted through the door to keep up with him. They walked into the interrogation room together. Logan sat down opposite Annabella, he glared at her hard. Falacci sat across from both of them, she had the perfect view for the little battle between them.

"When did you know she was your daughter?" Logan asked point-blank, even Falacci was stunned by the questions.

"What?" Annabella raised her voice.

"Melinda. When did you first realize that she was your daughter?" Logan repeated, he was trying to show her nothing, but to pull from her everything.

Annabella blinked at him, she was trying to stay cool, but she already knew she had lost.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She said in a weak voice.

"We can run a DNA test, why waste our time." Logan stood up and faced the mirror, he turned around quickly to face her. Logan approached the desk, placed his two large hands on the table and leaned into her. "Here's what I think. That poor kid was just looking for some affection. She got dumped when she was three with an abusive aunt…" Annabella looked up, her face had gone white. Logan stopped, cocked his head, "you didn't know that part, did you? She never told you about her life."

Annabella had begun to shake, she brought her hand to her lips.

"She contacted you, tried to call your office, even entered a beauty pageant you ran, just to talk to you." Logan was still standing but he had softened his voice. Annabella was crying, she remained silent but her breathing had become labored and tear ran down her cheek. "Why wouldn't you at least talk to your own daughter?"

Annabella took a deep breath in, "she could have ruined everything. I was married when she was conceived. My husband never knew, I invented such a story to hide my pregnancy. Then Henry took her. I never wanted a child, I never wanted her." Annabella's voice was raspy but growing stronger, "then she just showed up one day. I don't know what she wanted from me, money, a car? I could have bought her out, but she kept saying she wanted nothing from me." Annabella looked at Logan, "who wants nothing? That makes no sense."

Falacci shifted in her chair to try to bring the focus back, she leaned forward. Annabella saw her motion and continued. "When she entered the pageant, I told her, I'd fix it so she could win, but then she was out of my life. No contact, no emails, no phone calls. I wasn't going to let her destroy everything I've worked my whole life for. She didn't get it, she just kept calling me 'mom.' I had to do something, so I did it. I killed her." Annabella sat in her chair, she was as white as a sheet, but displayed no real emotion. "I'm sorry."

Logan backed away, Falacci stood and began to read Annabella her rights. Logan left the room and walked back into the observation room with Ross and Carver. Logan rubbed the back of his head, Ross looked at him.

"Well, at least she's sorry." Ross said, being sarcastic.

Logan sighed, "sorry she got caught is all."

The End.

**Next Week**: Logan's Pack, the favorite show of the WB, featuring a werewolf who fights crime on the NYPD, is shooting in New York. The head writer is kidnapped off the set and Detective Eames fights to bring back Goren. Together they have to race to find her.


End file.
